


carolina reaper

by penrosequartz



Category: Men's Hockey RPF, god i have sunk so low
Genre: Angst, Internalized Homophobia, Kissing, Lowercase, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 02:17:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17092157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penrosequartz/pseuds/penrosequartz
Summary: there's nothing in my system so i'm feeling what i feel for you





	carolina reaper

**Author's Note:**

> i have never written hockey fic before and my girlfriend is probably absolutely ashamed of me (if you're reading this please leave now lmao)

he doesn’t feel very well. he’s not- he’s not even drunk, not even a little tipsy, which makes everything worse. because he can’t excuse it, can’t blame it on beer, and he can’t just  _ not think about it. _

because that boy is just… everywhere. he’s plastered all over the radio, and painted on the inside of the sky. auston hears him in bon jovi as it drifts over him in grocery stores and bars, sees the glint of his eyes in ice clinking at the bottom of a glass, glimpses the strike of his smile in sharp footsteps on marble.

he hears mitch’s laugh in the clatter of plates as he washes the dishes, and it makes him wonder what it would be like to have him there, helping out.

it bothers auston to no end.

at first, he can’t quite grasp it - what it means, to have somebody replaying in your head, like your mind is a broken record. it’s irritating, and distracting, and he just wants to  _ breathe _ between games, but he can’t, because mitch is omnipresent.

then one night, they’re celebrating a win, and auston is so preoccupied with mitch’s hands wrapped around a beer bottle that he barely notices willy’s glance at zach - but he  _ does _ notice it. and he’s not an idiot. he knows exactly what that look is, he’s given it before. the implications hit him like a check from zdeno chara.

he excuses himself from the bar and doesn’t look back. he gets a cab back to the hotel they’re staying at and pretends to be asleep when connor comes in, and he absolutely does not have a panic attack.

he doesn’t.

he definitely doesn’t.

the next morning, they’re on a plane back to toronto. auston avoids mitch the whole trip, doesn’t make eye contact - marner looks… hurt, almost. he tries not to care, but he does. of course he does.

he knows he can’t do this forever, but the longer he doesn’t think about it, the longer he doesn’t have to deal with it, right?

he is thinking about it, though. he can’t stop. it’s invasive. it’s intrusive. it… digs, burrows under his skin until he’s full with it, itching at it, trying to scrape it away. but he can’t. 

he’s contaminated.

auston takes longer showers, cleans himself to the bone, tries to wash the stain away - because that’s what it is, of course. some kind of- of sickness, something that has a cure, if only he can find it. he googles endlessly, but nothing seems real anymore. nothing seems trustworthy. nothing registers.

except mitch’s downcast looks, his “are you mad at me?” texts - auston insists that no, it’s him, he’s just going through a rough patch. marner seems concerned, then.

it’s mostly true, what he tells him. this is auston’s fault; internally, this doesn’t involve mitch at all - but it does. it all does, everything just  _ revolves _ around him, this shining kid with a very bright future. it’s auston, auston, auston, push and pull, orbiting mitch marner, being dragged closer and closer.

auston knows you can’t escape gravity when you’re this close to the sun.

he’s not even drunk, but he’s crying in front of mitch’s hotel room, tears pouring down his face. the taste of the drops skimming down his cheeks, salty, warm - doesn’t register. the time, far too late - doesn’t register. nothing registers, except the way mitch’s eyes widen as he opens the door.

they just lost to the hurricanes. it wasn’t a shutout, but it felt like it. auston played miserably.

“fuck,” he mumbles, coming to his senses, “is hyman here?”

“no, he’s- matty- he’s out with willy, they’re at a bar- are you…” mitch pauses. auston drowns in how blue his eyes look in the bright hallway lights. 

“matty?” mitch asks, “auston?”

“can i-” he gestures vaguely to the doorway mitch is standing in.

“yeah, man, of course,” mitch steps sideways, guides him inside. auston is still vaguely aware of the tears on his face, how shitty he must look ugly-crying on mitch’s doorstep. 

he sits down on a bed. he assumes it’s mitch’s. it might be zach’s. at this point, he doesn’t really care.

mitch sits down on the other single bed, crisp white hotel sheets rippling under his weight. auston doesn’t know how to start. he needs a catalyst, needs something to help rip this confession out of him, because otherwise he’ll lock his secret inside and he will never, ever let it out.

“what’s wrong?” mitch asks. there’s no “buddy,” no “bro.” not auston’s nickname or his surname, no name at all - just the question. that’s a catalyst enough, apparently, because a bunch of words fight their way up auston’s throat, clawing, desperate to make it out into the air. where they can infect others. where they can spread.

before it occurs to auston that this dangerous idea might reach a reporter, one single sentence, one truth, manages to make it out of his mouth, prior to him slamming both of his hands over it.

“i can’t stop thinking about you,” he chokes out, then bites his tongue, hard.

mitch goes a little pink.

“uh…”

auston’s brain kicks into overdrive. he takes his hands away from his face, stands bolt upright.

“sorry, i know that’s super weird and shit, that was a weird thing to say, you can just- man, forget this even happened, it’s fine, i should go back to bed- oh, fuck, did i wake you up? god, i’ll just-”

“auston,” mitch says gently, “it’s fine. can you just… explain a bit?”

auston doesn’t say anything. he looks at the carpet, soft, grey. he wonders if there’s bloodstains somewhere. wonders if his secret will contaminate the floor, too, if it will invade the whole room. if they’ll have to quarantine it off when they find out. 

because someone  _ will  _ find out, he’s sure of that.

“is this why you’ve been avoiding me?” mitch asks softly.

auston manages a silent nod.

“matty-”

“i’m sorry,” auston swallows, “marns, i’m- i’m so sorry. i think i fucked everything up.”

“auston, it’s _ okay _ ,” mitch says emphatically, “trust me, i- uh. me, too.”

auston frowns.  _ ‘me, too.’ _ he wonders what that actually means. sentence structure, marner, for the love of god.

“mitch, it’s so bad,” auston, somewhat unconsciously, continues to babble, “i can’t get away from it, i tried to stop, i tried so hard, you have to believe me-”

“auston,” mitch says sharply, and it’s so much louder than before.

auston’s head shoots up, and marner is right there, in his space, breathing in his air. auston tries so hard not to get distracted by mitch’s lips. he really does try.

“i think about you, too,” he hears mitch say, sees his lips form the words, but it doesn’t really connect in his brain.

“all the time,” marner concludes, and that’s when the wire sparks.

auston surges forwards, electricity thrumming through him, vibrating his bones. he’s kissing mitch marner - how fucking crazy is that?

mitch tastes like ice and sunshine, all at the same time. someone will find out, eventually, but he’s not going to think about that right now. he’s going to take as much of marner’s impossible weather as he can.

maybe falling for someone  _ is _ a sickness, but auston thinks that possibly, he’s found the cure.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked it! sorry about the lowercase i just write like that pretty much everywhere else apart from like assignments and multichapter fics so... leave a comment or some kudos if you enjoyed this and it'll inspire me to write this one soulmate au i've got knocking around in my brain


End file.
